Carl stared back at Gwella's glimmering eyes in disbelief, a wry smile rising to his lips despite the unusually pressing situation they were all caught up in. “Aye, the next time I set about being stuck in a floody hole with an orc and a gaggle of children, you may be certain I'll bring all the rope you could possibly want! But just now I'm highly curious if there might possibly BE a next time!”

“Shh, Carl,” Athwen cautioned the hobbit, as she helped the children searching for higher finger holds in the walls. “You'll frighten them even further.”

“Yes, hobbits are infinitely more frightening then goblins!” Carl muttered, his fingers aching as he clung to the stone wall near Gwella. The bitterness in his speech was prompted by feelings of a responsibility that went deeper than even this most candid orc had touched on. He was painfully aware that if anything were to happened to Azhar, it was very likely that most if not all of them would drown, for the meager finger holds did not appear to extend all the way to the opening. And so it came as a great relief to see the young girl's face peering down from overhead, unfurling the lengths of dusty cloth she had found.

Too short! He could hardly believe it!. But at least now if the water were to grow too high they could hold on to the blankets like so many fish on a string. But of course the weight of all those fish might make it hard to remove the grate....

When Azhar had disappeared again, it seemed that he could hear the panting breath of everyone, echoing in the darkness. Oh Azhar, he thought fervently, Please bring back someone big and burly like that fellow Qat, and not another stupid little man!